


red and pink and white

by dragonbagel



Series: peter and mj, sittin in a tree [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trans Peter Parker, mj is a supportive queen change my mind, this is literally just me projecting oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonbagel/pseuds/dragonbagel
Summary: Peter’s been collecting scars for as long as he can remember. He counts them, sometimes, when he’s alone. All 76 of them. No, scratch that—the particularly nasty knife wound he’d gotten yesterday on patrol definitely pushed the count to 77.or: in which peter struggles to deal with past ghosts and mj is a supportive girlfriend





	red and pink and white

**Author's Note:**

> this is lowkey a vent fic
> 
> tw for discussion of self harm but nothing graphic, pls don’t read if triggering

Peter’s been collecting scars for as long as he can remember. He counts them, sometimes, when he’s alone. All 76 of them. No, scratch that—the particularly nasty knife wound he’d gotten yesterday on patrol definitely pushed the count to 77.

He hates them, every single one. Even the ones he gets while saving people, or the ones from clumsy childhood mishaps before he really knew the meaning of _ loss. _He especially hates the ones on his chest, the two angry red lines beneath his pecs that all but brand him as a screw-up. They’re the shameful cousins of the mostly faded scars littering his thighs, criss-crossing in messy chaos.

Some days, he feels like nothing more than a walking blob of scar tissue. Like all of his skin is marred in shades of red and pink and white. And he hates it, he hates it so much he could scream. What was the point of super healing if it still left him like this, marked and tarnished for eternity? Didn’t that god forsaken spider understand that this perpetual state of post-healing was worse than the injury itself?

Sure, he appreciated the speedy recovery when he was out Spider-Manning. But he quickly realized that his body’s attempts to keep him alive happened in a state of overdrive, leaving him with bumpy keloids all over his body. 

Sometimes, he just wishes they would disappear. That _ he _ would disappear. Other times he craves more of them in a way that he _ knows _isn’t healthy but can’t help fixating on. With his speedy healing, no one would know. He could just blame it on patrol, on a situation more heroic than a breakdown in his bathroom. But MJ would know, because she’s observant like that. Mr. Stark probably would, too, because for all he loves Karen, his AI is a goddamn snitch.

So yeah, the situation is...less than ideal. But isn’t that just his perpetual state at this point? Less than ideal?

MJ tells him that he’s overthinking for the fifth time in the past hour. Peter agrees, but his brain isn’t willing to let it go. Instead, his gaze remains glued to the newest addition just above his kneecap, dangerously close to the embarrassment hidden beneath the hem of his too-long basketball shorts. 

“Hey,” MJ says, snapping her fingers. “Eyes up here, Parker.”

Peter jolts, looking up at her. “Sorry.”

“We’re supposed to be studying for decathlon, remember? The tournament’s next week and you’re definitely competing, because if you flake out again and I have to deal with Flash I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

Peter smirks. “I seem to remember it was less flaking, more saving your life.”

MJ simply rolls her eyes. “Whatever, loser.”

She turns back to the hefty stack of flashcards in her lap. “Name this 1923 book whose opening ‘argument’ includes the statement ‘the house is a machine for living in.’”

Peter frowns, squeezing his eyes shut and placing a finger to his temple. He knows it makes him look like a dork, but the answer is right on the tip of his tongue and he’ll be damned if he lets MJ ridicule him for knowing literally nothing about literature. 

“Uhh…”

“Come on, use that big head of yours.”

“I’ll have you know my head is perfectly normal sized,” Peter replies, eyes still shut. “And the book is...uh...something about architecture...shit, I have no idea.”

He opens his eyes, squinting at the brightness and purposefully avoiding the disapproving stare that MJ os no doubt giving him. 

“Come on, we just studied this the other day.”

Peter wants to respond that he can barely remember what he ate for breakfast. Or what dreadfully-named bad guy he fought this week. Or who stabbed him in the thigh, left him with the scar that was now once again consuming his attention. Oops.

Instead, he just repeats his earlier statement. “I told you, MJ—I don’t know.”

MJ doesn’t respond, and Peter shyly glances at her face to see her frowning. _ Great, way to go, Parker. _

“Sorry, that was rude, I didn’t mean it like that, and I feel super bad for not knowing that answer and—“

He’s cut off as MJ shushes him with a finger to his lips. “It’s really bothering you, huh?”

He flushes as he realizes that she’s looking at his leg. “No, not at all. Really. No need to worry, I promise.”

MJ narrows her eyes. “Have I ever told you you’re a shitty liar?”

“Yeah, more than once.”

MJ scoots closer to him, flashcards abandoned on the floor so that she can take his hands in hers. She’s warm, she always is. Peter, on the other hand, is a perpetual freezer, which is probably ridiculously uncomfortable for MJ. _ Thanks again, spider genes. _

“I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

Peter is quick to nod.

“I’m always in your corner. So is May, and Ned, and Stark, and all the other Avengers that I’m still not over you being friends with.”

Peter cracks a smile at this. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, dork. This has literally been my job description since I signed on to being your girlfriend, so try to get that through your thick skull.”

This leaves Peter snorting (probably super unattractively) and leaning forward to wrap his arms around MJ, partially in thanks and partially to stifle the embarrassing sounds still coming from his face. 

MJ slowly rubs his back with one hand, the other moving to cup the nape of his neck and pull him closer to her. Peter inhales deeply, catching the subtle scent of vanilla shampoo and lilac perfume. The scent of MJ. (Which definitely isn’t weird, because his super sensitive nose just can’t help it, okay?)

“Thanks,” he mumbles into her shoulder. 

“Any time,” she replies. “Now answer my question and name the stupid book.”

Peter simply kisses her in response. He can’t help but smile at the flush painting MJ’s cheeks, leaning in to feel the pressure of her lips once more. 

MJ hums as he tilts his head to kiss her neck. “Hmm,” she starts, gasping slightly as Peter trails his teeth over her skin. “I guess we could take a break from studying...just for a little while.”

Peter grins, a movement he’s sure she can feel on her now-sensitive skin. 

“But we’re coming back to that question, capiche?” 

Peter is quick to nod as he tugs her toward his bed, thoughts of scars and anxiety and that _ stupid fucking book title _forgotten in favor of the pleasant thrumming feeling running through his body.

And if he happens to Google the answer on his phone later when MJ’s tired out and lightly dozing against his shoulder...well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave comments/kudos i crave validation
> 
> also yes i did search academic decathlon questions to write this lol (and the book is “towards a new architecture”)


End file.
